Dear Mnemosyne
by Antevorte
Summary: Bella Swan always thought that no one cared for her. She finds an oasis in the blog she had created. Suddenly, two people gave her a light of hope that showed her in spite of all the wrong things in the world, there are still good in people's heart.
1. Author's Note

Author's Note

_Hey, guys, Antevorte here._

_I just wanted to give you guys a heads up that this story will be in a form of a blog entry._

_That's right! This story will be a diary/blog entry – hence the title._

_Also, here's the full summary to make sure all of you will understand the story well._

**Summary:**

Bella Swan's parents were divorced and rarely care for her. She doesn't find an oasis in her friends or her family. All she has in life is a blog that she created, where her name is NocturnalKlutz, and began to write in about her daily life. A month went by without her blog having any visitors. Until one day that is. Two people - GreenDazzler & RadicalProtector - began giving her words of encouragement & truth. Can she finally find the right words to speak her opinions & get out of the shell she had created as a barrier to protect herself? And can she actually trust the two people who begins to take over her heart?

_So, does it sound promising? Well, hopefully it does and that you will enjoy it. _

_Anyways, until next time._

_- Antevorte  
_


	2. Entry 1: January 12, 2010

January 12, 2010  
11:15 pm

Surprisingly, the afternoon on this particular day was of out-of-the-ordinary weather. It was a warm day; a great day to be able to do the things you intend or want to do. Normally, the weather in this small town was foggy, wet, and green. It was still green, but not the usual green. It was a green color that you would expect from Los Angeles or somewhere where they always have a great weather.

The population of this town is about 10,000 – give or take a few. The people know each other well because most grew up here. When someone new moves in, everyone will know their name by the end of the day. Many people would come to your place just to greet you with a warm welcome and a gift here and there. With such few residents, people are bound to talk about you and everyone else. These days, the housewives have nothing else to do when they wait for their children to get off school. Gossips and whispers surround you if you are the target, just like what happened to me.

My name isn't important since I doubt anyone would actually be taking their time out of their life to read a blog entry from someone they know nothing about. It's actually quite peculiar that I would write my life in the cyber realm where many stalkers, perverts, and other people lurk around and pretend to be someone they aren't. But, I suppose, that is what you call 'I'm-at-the-end-of-my-rope.' Well that, and the fact that I have such a complex life and many conflicts - inner and outer - that I need to transfer my feelings & memories into another vehicle just to stop me from drowning in lukewarm water.

As I said in the beginning, today was a great day- so I thought. But as I start walking up the steps of my high school, I began to think differently. Right when people saw me, they started to whisper to their friends and to pointat me. The teachers all gave me a pitiful look that I did not need. Of course, I hate being the center of attention, so all I could do was 'suck it up' and lowered my head as I walked down the hall to my classes.

When the bell for lunch rang, I went straight to the library instead of the cafeteria where many kids would probably want me to sit down next to them in hopes of trying to make me feel better.

As I entered the library, I looked at the counter where the librarian would usually be found. Seeing that she was not there, I walked all the way to the back of the library and sat down next to the shelf that contained many books about history. I had let my head lean on one of the shelves so I could stare at the ceiling and ponder to myself where I did wrong.

The sayings "It's so easy to be young" or "Live your life while you're young" are completely cynical. Being a teenager is not easy. In fact, it probably has the same hard life as a single mother raising a young child. I mean, young-adults have many conflicts they deal with -things that others just cannot understand. I continued to ponder until the lunch bell rang again, making sure that the pupils know it was time to resume the classes. I left my position and the library. As I walked past the librarian, I tried to avoid her pitiful facial expression and fake sympathy, and went to my current class.

When school ended, I went straight home. I was the only one home; I actually still am. Frankly, I don't mind that I'm alone. I have things I must do and I now have this blog where I can freely express my opinion and feelings without someone criticizing me.

It's funny how I thought my life was a normal life. I have friends who care, or at least seem to care, about me. My parents, well now it's only my father, are what you call 'high class'. My father is the CEO of a company that should remain unnamed. My mother was a model in her early life, but when she found out that she was pregnant with me, she quit her job and began to start her career as a mother and housewife.

My childhood contained of many memories. I remember things from way back like when my friend, Jessica, and I were catching fireflies and putting them in a jar only to let them go a few hours later or when I had a party that most of the kids in town were invited to. Overall, my life was great - until now.

I guess reality finally caught up to my parents. The constant travels of my father were too much for my stay-at-home mother. My mother then began to wish that she could be a model again. I, of course, felt bad. It was practically my fault that my mother can't do the things she used to do. My mother doesn't blame me, but I know she wishes that I was never born, or at least that I was old enough to move out and live a new life as an adult.

So now, they're getting a divorce. Actually, the divorce papers have been signed by the two of them which is why most of my father's stuff is packed and will be shipped off to New York City where he will stay from now on. He will be near the company, which will be very good for him.

My mother and I are staying here. My father didn't want me to come with me since he wouldn't be able to care for me with his schedule being busy and all. But, I mean, it's not like I wanted to go with him. I didn't want to be friends with those snobby rich girls and date those narcissistic guys. I'm content to where I am now residing.

I have to go now. My mother has just come and she wants me to get the groceries and to fix dinner for her and me.

**NocturnalKlutz**

* * *

_Hey Guys!_

_I'm sorry if this took quite some time. There were…complications. _

_But anyway if I have some reviewers from __TIAW__ then I hoped that you will enjoy this story as well.  
And just to let you __TIAW__ fans know, I have already sent it the second chapter.  
So you can expect that in a week or two c:_

_Oh, and if you haven't looked/read my blog entries…I URGE you to do so.  
Or at least check on the blog once a week or so because you can bet I'll be writing entries there c:_

_xx_

_ Antevorte_


	3. Entry 2: January 28, 2010

Dear Mnemosyne: Entry 2 – January 28, 2010

January 28, 2010  
10:51 pm

"Change can sometimes be a good thing, B," Angela assured me during seventh period today, after I had told her of my worries. I had looked at her with one of my eyebrows raised, but she just nodded without looking at me; she was so sure of her answer to my 'Change-is-an-awful-thing' question.

Out of curiosity, I decided to search the meaning of 'change' in the Merriam-Webster Online dictionary when I reached home. If I may add, I think that Merriam Online is the best dictionary and thesaurus ever. Plus, they always have 'The Word of the Day', which I'm really fond of because I try my best to actually use the word. Yes, I know, I'm a dork.

Anyways, there are many definitions under the word 'change'. So, I just choose the two definitions that were relevant to me.

_Main Entry: __**1**__**change**_

_Pronunciation: \'chānj\_

_Function: verb_

_Inflected Form(s): __**changed**__; __**chang·ing**_

_Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French changer, from Latin cambiare to exchange, probably of Celtic origin; akin to Old Irish camm crooked_

_Date: 13th century_

_**1**__**:**__ to become different her mood change_s_ every hour_

_**5**__**:**__ to undergo transformation, transition, or substitution winter __changed__ to spring_

People change because they undergo a transformation that makes them different from who they were before. It could have been a traumatic past or an experience that was unforgettable that could make people change. For me, it was the divorce.

I was popular before with many friends that would look out for me. Being a straight 'A' student, the teachers all adored me. I was hilarious, in a good way. Every day was a fun day. And, I didn't have a blog that would soon become my only oasis. The divorce made my world turn topsy-turvy.

The divorce made everyone, all who cared for me, turn their backs on me, making me a social outcast. The friends I hung out with before either ignored me or said mean comments behind my back - or in front of my face. It was similar to what my friends and I used to do to the 'nerds' in school. Amazing, huh? I guess Karma is an bitch.

When Angela, my only friend that didn't give up on me, called me around 5pm to chat about random things, I mentioned to her what I just wrote above. "B, you can't blame yourself. It's unfair to you! All you're trying to do is live in this despicable world," she said exasperated.

I shook my head. "It sort of is, A. I mean, just last year I was a popular kid who said hurtful comments to other people and I made fun of them too. Now, someone else is doing it to me. This is Karma punishing me," I argued back.

"It's not Karma. It's just Jessica and Lauren being a witch to you. Remember last year…"

"Oh, I remember. We were the best of friends. Now they are the ones in charge of making my life utterly miserable," I interrupted. I heard Angela groan. "They've always been jealous of you. That's why they're doing all these mean things to you!"

"I'm not someone who they should be jealous of," I said with a hint of sadness.

"B, you know how people work these days. Everybody talks about everyone behind his or her back. Let's face it. People are social climbers and will do _anything_ to be on top of the pyramid…especially if your dad is near the top of the social pyramid."

"I don't know, A. Maybe you're wrong."

"But what if I'm right?" she countered. I sighed, giving up.

One thing that I've learned from my past with Angela is that you can never win an argument with her. She never backs down and will always counter your reasoning. I once suggested to her that she should join the debate team when we get to high school, but she just laughed at me, saying that she is not very good at debating. I was about to say something but she changed the subject.

Another change that I thought of was my parent's love for one another. Sometimes I reminisce of the times my father would surprise my mother and I with a gift we both have wished for. When my mother would show her surprise expression, father would kiss her on the lips in front of me. They would then stand there, smiling down at me while hugging each other tightly as if their lives depended on it. Now, that dream ended. The seventeen years of being together faded like a fog. I guess that's what they call life being unfair.

On a different and lighter note, my father came back to get the last of his things. He's currently staying in Seattle. He tried to talk to me about my feelings during dinner in the restaurant he had called for reservation him and myself. Well, he's not very good with words so all he asked was if I was alright. Naturally, I replied with the same answer that I've been saying to those that asked me the same question – 'I'm fine'. He had looked at me then looked away, saying he must take me home now.

We said our last farewell on the porch with him standing in his Armani suit and I, in my black skinny jeans and white Celine beaded top. It was awkward for my father to show any emotion, especially to act on said emotion. So he and I hugged awkwardly. I watched him get into his car and drive away before going inside my house.

As for my mother, she has been doing extremely well. She is no longer the uptight mother that I knew; instead, she has been acting and dressing as if she's a minor. It's kind of odd knowing your mother is more of a child than yourself. Then again, I've always been mature for my age.

Recently, mother found work being a salesperson at the 'Camp Out Store' owned by the Newton family. Of course, with how much money my father gives my mother per month, she – including me – would not have to work for years. Though, as usual, my eccentric mother wants to do what she wishes to do.

Due to her work, my mother comes home late - leaving me no choice but to be the one in charge of making dinner for the both of us. I don't exactly mind, seeing as I'm more of a cook than her. Why, you ask? Well, that's because mother tends to…erm…experiment while she cooks. The last _failed_ experiment she made was called 'Esseramuna' by her. It was a combination of egg, tuna and ham casserole. My father and I had no choice but to eat. Thankfully, the phone had rung then and the two of us took the opportunity by throwing it in the trash can. Then, after dinner was over, father volunteered to take out the trash – erasing the evidence. I know, it's harsh, but, if you had a mother who always wants to experiment with food and makes you be the food tester, you would do the same thing.

Speaking of food, today's lunch at school was absolutely horrid. It was suppose to be lasagna but it looked like it was blood with strips of pasta, and the meatballs looked like poop. Angela tasted it, since she didn't have lunch, and nearly spit it on my face. Fortunately, she turned her head at the exact moment it came out. Afterwards, I had to help her get rid of the awful taste out of her mouth. When we parted at the end of the day, she told me the taste was still lingering in her mouth. Today was one of those days that I was thankful I packed my own lunch.

Well, this is where I end today's entry. This blog of mine really has eased my burdens. My entries seem like I'm talking to someone when in reality, I don't even know if anyone is reading this. Perhaps this is the after-effect of the divorce? *laughs*

Goodnight!

xx

NocturnalKlutz

* * *

_I switched the first beta'd version with this second one x)  
& I have come back from Europe so you can expect Entry 3 very soon...same goes for Chapter 3 of TIAW._

_REVEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!  
3 3 3_

_xx  
Antevorte_


	4. Entry 3: February 13, 2010

February 13, 2010

6:30 pm

Dear Mnemosyne,

'Finally, this blog of yours has a name' is what you are probably thinking. Well, after much consideration from last night and part of today, I figured that my blog should have a name. If my blog has a name, it would make it seem like I'm talking to a friend.

The name, Mnemosyne, is the name of the Goddess of Memories and Remembrance in Greek Mythology. She also happens to be the inventress of language and words. Seeing that she is also the daughter of Uranus (or Ouranos) and Gaia, she happens to be the goddess of time. She is the wife of Zeus before Hera was, and is the mother of the nine Muses.

Greek myths have always fascinated me. I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with history, and how each tale is told with an important lesson to learn. But aside from that, my memories are the ones that I tell in this blog, all of the bad and good memories are shared from me to you. What would be better than to write to the goddess of memories?

Well, I'm extremely joyful because now I have a new friend instead of a boring old blog. Now, as much as I want to say I'm happy in both my life and school life, I can't. It's just that my school life has been quite sad.

* * *

Loneliness.

That's what I've been feeling for the past week. Normally during lunch, I would be with Angela in the cafeteria. But she caught the flu and has been home for the past week (since the 4th of February). Since then, I haven't been eating during lunch and just spend my forty-five minutes of break from class in the library.

At first it was just me, reading books that I found were interesting. Then the next day, I noticed that I wasn't the only one that was there. Two desks away from me was a boy that I hardly knew, though he seemed familiar. He had this certain aura around him that I just can't seem to find the words to describe.

On the third day of just the two of us there - occasionally there was a student that had a project or assignment needed to be done, and minus the librarian - he had talked to me.

"Wuthering Heights? Are you fond of that book?" I looked at him, shocked that he was speaking to me. It only seemed natural since he had never tried to talk to me, or I to him.

"Yes, I am. Are you?"

Taking the seat across from me and looking straight at my eyes, he nonchalantly said, "Not exactly. I mean Emily Bronte did portray the male's character believable. However, what she wrote was more likely a stereotypical male perspective. Plus, the love of the two main characters was selfish and destructive."

I gaped at him. "Their love was not 'selfish and destructive'," I quoted. "It was a love where problems arose and there were sacrifices to be made. And Bronte's males were created during the time she was sick so the characters may have been sick and twisted but it most certainly is not a stereotypical perspective."

He chuckled and leaned forward. His mouth open to defend his opinion but I held up my hand. "Don't bother. Everyone is entitled to have his or her own beliefs. We would just waste our break time debating."

He laughed, and the librarian hushed us. We laughed silently. Pushing his Benjamin Eyewear black acetate glasses, he started another topic that he considered we would both enjoy chatting about.

Since then, we would meet up in the library (at school or the public one) and speak to each other about endless of things. I learned many things about him and vice versa. It was fun. But there is something that I find extremely odd. It's just that whenever we pass each other in the hallways we never say 'hi' to one another or even glance at each other. It's as if there was an unspoken agreement between us not to speak in public. Now that I stop and actually think about it, we might just be afraid to converse with each other aside from our haven because we might be afraid of what people might think – specifically Lauren, Jessica, and those other wannabee popular people who think they rule the school with their stupid little laws.

I must say, though, I am getting fond of Edward, the guy I have been mentioning. He and I have common interests that I never thought I might have with somebody else. He has charmed his way into my life. His actions are very much of a gentleman. I know he has manners, unlike other boys I can name, because whenever I would come to the library late, he would always pull out the chair for me to sit on. Plus, he would open the doors for me, carry books that are heavy, and other things a gentleman would do.

I told Angela about him. I told her bits of information that I learned from Edward. She, in turn, told me some information that got leaked or rumors that have spread when he first moved here. I can't exactly say the specific details since I would very much like to make this blog anonymous {which is why my name is not said and only first names – not surnames blogged}, just in case someone who happens to be an adult I know of or a classmate reads it. I can't take that chance with how fast gossips and rumors travel in this little town of mine.

However, I can say that he is the son of a famous doctor here and has an architect as a mother. Let me tell you now, his parents are extremely generous and would often give money to charity or other needy stuff people are able to come up here in the 20th century. They are incredibly rich, but aren't snobby. They, all three of them, are very modest and humble; two traits you rarely see in this lifetime.

Anyways, Angela would very much like to actually speak a few words to him since apparently she only sees him around the campus, but has never spoken to him directly. After giving her some of the details we, Edward and I, talked about, she's very excited on starting a conversation with him; which I'm really glad for because I know that they will get along very well.

Today (as usual I'm getting off topic and this entry keeps getting longer), Edward and I met at Port Angeles to go to Barnes and Nobles. It's a bit lame to be a date…not that I'm calling it that since it was only a friendly outing with no romantic feelings involved. Friends…that's exactly what we are to each other.

Moving on (before I make more of a fool on myself or dig a bigger hole), he and I agreed to go to the bookstore because we were in a heated argument last night while talking on the phone. It was a stupid quarrel really.

The topic was dreams. To be more specific, it was about whether a human being was able to 'predict the future' by being able to dream about it – or precognitive dreams. He had insisted that the statement I made, which was they are able to have dream of the future, was merely the feeling of déjà vu. I countered that it actually has been proven. Of course, he snickered at me, taunting me to prove it by having evidence. I suggested in going to a bookstore to read books about precognitive dreams afterschool. Naturally, he agreed, still not believing me.

So when we reached our destination, we immediately asked a salesperson to point us to the right direction. While she was showing us the section with books that contained the topic, we passed by the 'Sexuality' section. I was determined to avert my eyes into another section, clearly not wanting to see the covers or even think about it. Edward, on the other hand, was hiding his snickers and crooked grins unsuccessfully when he took noticed of what I was avoiding. All I can say is that thank goodness he hadn't taken a book and showed it to me – which I actually thought he would.

After two helps from other salespeople, we find the section and were both disappointed. It was only one row and lacked books greatly. There were only about seven books on the shelf. We looked at said books and sighed a great disappointment. None of the books were helpful since it was only about interpreting your dreams – not dreams about seeing the future. We decided to come back or just search some online. I am very determined to have him say 'I was wrong', if you could tell.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I've already gotten a present for Angela, my mother, my father, and Edward. I was a bit nervous if it was okay for me to give a gift to Edward, because we had just met I do hope it's alright…

Angela's calling right now. I've got to go, Mnemosyne and other people who read this blog. Hopefully, I'll be back soon.

xx

NocturnalKlutz

* * *

_GreenDazzler commented on February 13, 2010 – 8:47 p.m:_

Hello there dear Nocturnal,

As you can see, my name is GreenDazzler, but feel free to have another name for me if you wish. Your blog is quite interesting, even if it is just beginning. I agree with the way you name your blog/diary. Mnemosyne is a very interesting name and it does fit perfectly for your new friend.

From what I can gather, you are a very sweet girl who cares deeply for her friends. I do apologize for what you are experiencing from the very bottom of my heart. Divorce is a very sensitive and traumatic subject for anyone really. I am sure that you are a strong and independent adolescent that will overcome this obstacle.

P.S I sincerely hope you do not mind a comment from me. I had felt the need to speak to you. But just say the word, and I won't be doing so.

* * *

_That's it folks. Hope you guys enjoyed it.  
Let me know by reviewing, mkai?  
_

_xx  
Antevorte_

_P.S REVIEW = MOTIVATIONS = YOUR STORY UPDATED!  
_


	5. Entry 4: February 14, 2010

February 14, 2010

11:43 p.m.

Dear Mnemosyne,

I didn't give it to Edward. I immediately became shy and felt idiotic for having a gift for him when I saw him in the library. I stuffed the teddy bear that carried a red, blank heart and thebox of hand-made chocolates into my bag as fast as I could. I, then, managed to walk calmly inside without looking like I was hiding something. I knew that I had done the right thing when, throughout lunch, he didn't seem like he was waiting for me to give him something.

Angela had gave me a stuffed bee that held a flower with the words 'Bee Mine'. I found it rather amusing, even if it was utterly cheesy. She had also gave me a box of my favorite chocolates – truffles. I could have literally jumped for joy, but seeing as we were in the hallway with other people, I didn't and settled for a tight squeeze. And I was extremely glad that she had liked the present I gave her – a chocolate rose and hand-made scarf that formed her name on the side.

As for my parents, I sent the chocolates and necktie that I bought for my father to him and before I had left for school, I placed a bouquet of flowers in a vase in the middle of our dining room table for my mother to see and smell while she made breakfast for herself.

On a subject that I find a bit…confusing, I found a note inside my English textbook that said I should have a wonderful Valentine's Day. It was signed by 'a certain secret admirer'. At first, I was giddy, thinking that someone likes me, before I became disappointed; for I was sure that theboy had mistook my textbook for another girl's. So, I tried to throw the note into the nearest garbage can, but couldn't bring myself to because, deep within, I held onto the hope that the boy purposely put it into my textbook.

Hope. I know for a fact that a lot of people in this world hope for certain things, whether it's because they can't have it or they just want to believe that there might be something better out there for them. Hope reminds me of Pandora's box.

Pandora had been given a 'box', in reality it was just a large jar, by Zeus. Out of curiosity, she opened it and released all the evil it had contained into the world. Frightened, she closed the jar, leaving only hope inside.

At an early age, I learned to not rely on hoping so much. My father used to tell me that there's no point in hoping when you can actually just do something about it yourself. But even so, I want to believe that if I hope, miracles will be performed, just like in fairytales.

Is that so wrong?

Before I forget, thank you, GreenDazzler, for your kind words, and no, I do not mind that you commented. In fact, your comment brightened up my day seeing as you are the first real person to come visit (as far as I know). Please, come and stop by frequently.

Lastly, Mnemosyne, I hope that tomorrow will be a brighter day.

xx

NocturnalKlutz

* * *

* * *

_GreenDazzler commented on February 15, 2010 – 5:01 a.m.:_

Nocturnal,

I will be sure to come and visit, every day in fact. But, you know, you should not feel shy about giving something to a boy, especially if you only have platonic feelings for him…that is, unless you don't…

As I said before, you're a charming girl, so why would a boy not fancy you? Besides, I'm quite certain that the boy definitely did not make a mistake on putting the note inside your textbook. And even if he did, there is nothing wrong about hoping he didn't, is there?

Just so you know, Hope will always be there for you.


End file.
